Paper Boats
by FlashFiction
Summary: "Beliefs," Ted said quietly, "are kinda like those paper boats. You build them to be strong and seaworthy, you put them in the water and sometimes they float. Sometimes they weather storms and go for miles. But they always sink. Always. Things will change, Andromeda, they always do. In time, your family will come to accept us."


**Author's Note: This was written for the Canon Couples Competition at the HPFC Forum. **

The moon hung low in the sky, casting its pale beams across the dark water of the lake. The gentle waves lapped slowly against the stone covered shore, the rhythmic sound radiating through the still night air. There was no wind, but it was cold, a sharp, static chill surrounding everything. A figure sat on a large rock that jutted out into the water, silhouetted in the moonlight. She was tall, angular, though the true shape of her body couldn't be appreciated because of the way her legs were tucked underneath her. She had a mass of dark curls, barely restrained by the black ribbon she had tied around them. Pale skin glowed in the dim moonlight. A pair of light brown eyes stared out into the darkness, glistening with tears.

Andromeda Black shivered as the cold continued to press on her body. She pulled the velvet cloak she wore over her shoulders closer to her core. It was late, late enough for her to be given a detention if she was discovered out in the grounds of the school at this hour. This, however, hadn't factored in her decision at all; she didn't care in the slightest. At this moment all she wanted was to be away from everyone, particularly her Slytherin house mates. Leaving her dormitory, she had sat alone in the common room for a while. But she felt like the walls were closing in on her, the ghosts of those who had come before her still lingering, still watching, still judging her. So she had come down to the lake, where she could be alone with her thoughts.

In her hands, she clutched a large stack of letters, each one made of thick, expensive parchment. Various handwriting styles adorned the fronts, the same address written in black ink. And the same wax seal had closed them all; a coat of arms baring the words "Toujours Pur", the phrase ringing through Andromeda's mind as she looked at them. The letters had come from members of her family and they all concerned one boy; Ted Tonks. Ted was in the same year as Andromeda, his allegiance with Hufflepuff. He played Quidditch for the house, Chaser was his position of choice. But he could've played any position he wanted. He was bright, funny, good looking, everything that young men aspired to be. He was a Muggleborn, his parents, so it was said, were an accountant and a nurse. And none of it would've mattered. He could've gone on being everything that he was and it wouldn't have mattered at all. Except Andromeda was madly in love with him. That was a slight problem.

She had first met Ted in a Herbology class, third year. She'd seen him around, of course, but she hadn't felt a need to talk to him. She knew what he was. But then, on that rainy afternoon four years ago, he'd picked up her glove when she'd dropped it and his smile was so sweet that she forgot she didn't like him. Ted had then helped her out when she'd struggled with the task and, soon, she found she couldn't do anything without help. She had tried to fight it, to back away from this boy who was everything she wasn't allowed to have. But the pull was too strong. In fifth year, he'd asked her to go to Hogsmeade and she went with him. He'd asked her to have dinner with him and she did. He'd waved at her after his winning Quidditch goal and she'd waved back. He'd asked if he could kiss her and she'd said yes. That was the beginning. He was no longer Ted and she was no longer Andromeda, they were Ted and Andromeda, together. All their friends knew about them, well, all his friends. Andromeda had only confided in those she knew wouldn't turn on her. She hadn't told her family, for she knew they would turn on her immediately. And the plan had been for it to stay that way. But, as it often is with plans, things didn't work out that way.

Attempting to conceal their relationship from just about everyone meant that time together was limited, so they had to steal every moment they could. Last night, in celebration of Andromeda's birthday only a few days ago, Ted had organized a midnight picnic in a dungeon, just the two of them. He had laid out a blanket, some candles and even got the house elves to bake a cake (vanilla sponge with pink and white icing). It had been a beautiful gesture and Andromeda couldn't remember being happier.

Unbeknownst to her older sister, Narcissa Black had followed them to their meeting spot and, upon discovering what her sibling was doing, had revealed the relationship to everyone, including, Andromeda had discovered this morning, her entire family; to put it mildly, they weren't pleased. Luckily, the Blacks weren't a family to make a public scene, so Andromeda had been spared the embarrassment of several hundred Howlers at breakfast. However, the stack of letters had arrived, one by one, each carried by a haughty looking owl who, she was sure, had been instructed to bite her. Sitting in the Great Hall, she had managed to smile them off as late birthday cards. But they contained nothing of the sort. Andromeda had opened them alone in her room and she couldn't keep from crying. Her mother had called her all the names under the sun, her aunt had withdrawn her from her will and her older sister Bellatrix had told her, in no uncertain terms, that if Andromeda didn't leave Ted, she was going to kill them both and bury them deep in the woods. She was exaggerating, Andromeda hoped, but the sentiment was still there. And, in her mind, when she'd played the scene of Ted and her becoming common knowledge, she hadn't cared. She had thought up clever retorts for everything her parents would say, tied up every loose end. But it hadn't been that easy in reality. They were her family and their words had hurt her. Even now, as the day died and a new one creeped closer, Andromeda couldn't hold back the tears.

Footsteps came from behind her. Andromeda turned around to see Ted standing there, his hands in his pockets. His blonde hair was carelessly swept across his forehead, his muscular shoulders slightly hunched over. His light blue eyes stared at Andromeda with concern. She turned back to look at the lake.

"How'd you get out?" she asked quietly, "I heard McGonagall's patrolling the corridors."

"I could ask you the same question," Ted replied.

"Front door," Andromeda muttered, "It's not too hard if you try."

Ted moved forward and climbed up onto the rock. Cautiously, he shuffled closer to Andromeda.

"I haven't seen you all day," Ted remarked.

"I had things to deal with," she said.

Subconsciously, she clutched a little tighter onto the stack of letters.

"What's that?" Ted asked.

When she didn't answer, he repeated the question, a little sharply.

"Oh," Andromeda sighed, "these are just the responses I've received in regards to Narcissa's little escapade yesterday."

"Right," Ted nodded, "I wondered if anything would happen. Is it bad?"

"It's not pleasant," Andromeda said, "There's a rather colourful one from sister, Bellatrix."

"I thought as much," he said, "There was one for me as well."

Andromeda spun around to face him. She couldn't believe it.

"I am so sorry," she apologized.

"I didn't open it," Ted shrugged, "Though I know I'll laugh at it later, it's a little too topical right now. Besides, coming from your darling sister, I figured it might be cursed."

"I'm so sorry, Ted," Andromeda said, "This is unfair to you."

"Don't worry," he smiled, "I knew what I was signing up for."

The first gust of wind swiped across their faces, adding to the sting from the cold. Ted moved even closer and put his arm around his companion. She relaxed back into him, leaning against his outstretched legs. It felt so comfortable, so right. It was moments like this that convinced Andromeda no one could separate her from Ted. How ever much they were to hurt her, the love she felt for him was stronger than any pain. Love. After all this time it was strange to think of that word, especially now. But that was how she felt. Who cared what her family thought? She sighed; she did.

"Narcissa couldn't look at me," Andromeda whispered hoarsely, "We've always got on, but she couldn't even look at me."

She spoke with so much bitterness. Why was she the one that had to have this happen? What deity had decided that she would be the one to choose between love and family? In a sudden fit of anger, she took the first letter on the pile and tore it viciously into shreds, before bursting into tears. The pieces drifted into her lap, like a serene snow fall, mocking the chaos she was in. Ted pulled her into a hug, his arms steady around her shaking shoulders. When she stopped crying, he picked up another one of her letters.

"You might as well do something interesting with them," he said.

With nimble fingers and a look of deep concentration, Ted began to fold the parchment. He created sharp, crisp creases, the "Toujours Pur" getting lost in the folds. When he had finished, there sat on his hand a small paper boat. Andromeda took it delicately in her fingers, turning it over gently.

"It's beautiful," she said in awe.

Placing it down beside her, she got another letter.

"Could you show me how you do it?" she asked.

So Ted took her hands in his and helped her to craft a little boat. When they had finished that one, they kept going until all the letters were part of an origami fleet. Holding it between two fingers, Ted placed a boat on top of the water, giving it a small push. It began to float out into the lake. Soon every little boat was on its way, tiny white dots in an expanse of darkness. Ted sat back on the rock and laid his hand on Andromeda's. She laced her fingers through his as they watched their creations disappear.

"Beliefs," Ted said quietly, "are kinda like those paper boats. You build them to be strong and seaworthy, you put them in the water and sometimes they float. Sometimes they weather storms and go for miles. But they always sink. Always. Things will change, Andromeda, they always do. In time, your family will come to accept us."

"I don't know what I'm going to tell them," Andromeda said, "But I'll work it out."

"Let's focus on what we're going to tell McGonagall if she catches us!" Ted laughed, "Come on, we should head inside."

They slipped off the rock and walked, arm in arm, back to the castle. Behind them, out in the lake, a tiny boat started to sink. The black water seeped into the parchment, dragging it down. The last tip of white hovered above the waves, almost pleading, begging for something to save it. But only the moon was watching now. The boat became completely submerged, "Toujours Purs" beginning its journey downwards to lie at the bottom of the lake.


End file.
